Beloved Foe
by Maestro Kitten
Summary: With Edward out west and Alphonse in the east, chances to communicate are few and far between. But what Al doesn't know is that Ed isn't in the west anymore- he's a general in the Amestrian Military. And what Ed doesn't know is that Al has dropped out of any respectable lines of work. After all, being an assassin is easy when armed with alchemy. Post-Manga/Brotherhood
1. The Ex-Alchemist's New Job

**Disclaimer: I don't own jack. I used to own Jill, but she and Jack decided to fetch some water on a hill, and things didn't turn out well. On a completely different note, I am not Hiromu Arakawa and therefore have no rights or claim to the manga or either anime of Fullmetal Alchemist.**

Chapter 1

Edward Elric is the man who attempted the impossible, payed the price, went on a journey, saved a country, and then ended his journey right back where he began: parentless, and left with only a brother as family. But at least he had everything he wanted. Kind of.

Traveling was fun for a little while. He certainly learned a lot about alchemy, and compiled enough knowledge to fill a book. Which he did. It was called 'The Alchemist's Taboo: Edward Elric's Research.' It sold well... until its hype died down. And then Ed, left with a few cenz and a large quantity of lint to fill his pockets, decided that he was better off going back home. After all, what good was an alchemist without his alchemy? Plus, his wife wouldn't stop calling, and that got annoying quickly.

Upon his return, Winry and Ed had a couple of kids, which was nice, and Ed decided not to ever leave his children like his father had. But after some time, the family found themselves in somewhat of a tight spot. Ed was getting restless playing housewife and Winry's automail business wasn't bringing in enough money to support a family of four. The father of the household needed a job, pronto. And that's when it hit him.

* * *

"Edward Elric, huh? Never thought I'd see you here again."

"Shut up, bastard."

"Oh, how rude of me," General Roy Mustang chuckled. "I should have called you Fullmetal."

"Well, that's not my title anymore, now is it?" Ed said through clenched teeth.

Mustang smiled. "Not unless you want it to be."

"Only state alchemists have titles."

"I'm sure we can make an exception for you, oh Savior of Our Country, sir."

It was in this moment that Ed was reminded of why he used to hate this man so much. And unfortunately, it would seem that Mustang hadn't changed one bit. He still had the same smirk always tugging at the edges of his mouth, and his old blue uniform- now with a few more stars on the shoulders- was as crisp as ever.

"I'd like to speak with the appropriate official about re-applying for the military," Edward told him, trying to stay composed.

"Considering your former status, that would be me," Mustang replied impatiently.

"Great. Then, I would like to speak with _you _about re-applying for the military."

And Mustang had the application papers on the desk before Ed could tack on "bastard." As Edward looked over them, the General looked over _him_. Ed would be a fine subordinate, he decided. The boy had changed a good deal over the years. Well, first off, he wasn't a boy anymore. Now they were about the same height, which surprised and disappointed Mustang. No more short jokes. But on the bright side, he looked far more responsible than he had- what was it, ten years ago? Edward's hair wasn't in a braid, in favor of a simple ponytail, but he'd started wearing it like that before he resigned from the military (which was after he'd used up all of his vacation leave, of course). His stature was more firm somehow, and he walked with confidence but not conceit, which was a nice change from the arrogant strut he'd used as a teenager. Although Ed no longer had his alchemy, Mustang had been keeping tabs on him, and word on the street was that he was unstoppable with his dagger techniques. A fine subordinate indeed.

Ed's voice (which was lower now, the General noticed) cut his thoughts short. "Ah, here it says that I will be working under Roy Mustang."

Mustang looked up from the paperwork. "Yes."

"So, do I have to?" Ed asked.

"W-well-"

"Because I assumed that with my former rank as a major," he said nonchalantly, "I could advance a bit higher than some General's subordinate."

"Not right away, you can't," snapped Mustang.

"But I can later, and this application doesn't give much room for promotion."

The General smirked. Somehow, over the years, Edward Elric- the same ornery twelve-year-old that didn't know much about anything other than alchemy- had matured enough to challenge _his_ skills. And that was saying something, since most of the military couldn't do that.

Normally, Mustang would have pressed on. But he could see this conversation was going nowhere fast; and maybe a new competitor would bring some change to his boring daily routine. Yes, this could turn out quite nicely. If he could have Edward as a rival, his motivation would surely be sparked.

So that was how the blond came to be signing quite a different set of application papers.

* * *

Edward Elric hated military uniforms. He always had and always would. But at least, as a kid, he didn't have to wear one. Apparently now that he was an honest-to-god soldier, an official military-issued straightjacket/jumpsuit-thingy was "completely and absolutely mandatory." Oh, how he loathed the way the corners of Mustang's lips had curled up pompously as he said that.

"How do I look?" he asked Hawkeye sarcastically as they walked down the corridor and back to the office. For some reason he'd needed an escort to make sure he put on the uniform correctly. Ridiculous.

"Dashing, sir. The outfit is quite unique," the Lieutenant General quipped evenly.

Edward scoffed. "When did you get a sense of humor?"

"Around the time you got a wife, I suppose."

"I'm not sure whether to laugh or be offended."

Hawkeye opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a door down the hall opened and Mustang's head popped out. "Since you two are taking so long, I'll have to assume you're out there snogging with my wife, and in that case I suggest that you stop."

Ignoring most of what was said, Edward turned to the woman. "Wife?"

"What, you didn't know?"

"No, congrats."

"Thank you."

Mustang sighed. "Did you two hear a _word _I just said?"

"Obviously, dumbass, I heard you two got married. When did that happen?" Ed asked, making his way to the office door.

"Years ago."

Ed shifted uncomfortably in the stiff uniform and plopped down on Mustang's couch before asking incredulously, "Just how much did I miss?"

"You'll see soon, but for now you're on the clock," Hawkeye reminded him sharply.

"Right."

"Here, _Major_." Mustang handed Edward a folder. "I still have no idea how you got promoted right to that rank." He actually had a pretty good idea. Ed, along with a few others, had basically saved everyone in the country. It was no surprise that the military wanted to make use of him right away.

Ed flipped open the folder as Hawkeye explained monotonously, "The contents of this folder entail your duties and responsibilities as a soldier. They also cover the additional duties you will take on as a Major and your initial objectives."

"How enthusiastic you are," noted Major Elric sarcastically.

"You don't know how many times per week I have to do this."

Reading over the first few papers, he frowned. They were filled with paperwork and graphs. "I didn't sign up for some desk job."

"Read it all before you judge," demanded Hawkeye.

Edward flipped through some more of the same, before he came to something more interesting. It was a divider labeled "TOP SECRET - FOR MAJOR EDWARD ELRIC'S EYES ONLY."

"What a mission!" He smiled widely as he read through the rest of the folder. "Now this looks a lot more fun."

* * *

**A/N: Hello there!**

**Ah, how I love author's notes- reading them and writing them. I think they make readers feel much closer to the author and authors much closer to the reader. **

**Sorry there's only Ed in this chapter, but I didn't want to lost steam and write everything in the exposition at once, so I decided to leave Al until next chapter.**

**So who noticed that I began each section with "Edward Elric?" I only saw that when I was about halfway through writing this, but decided I liked the way it sounds. Should I make that a thing? Maybe I should start the first sentence of each section with its POV? It's up to you now, dear readers! Even more reason to write a review! (Seriously though, reviews are what make me want to write more.)**

**Thank you for reading, and tune in next time for more of TIE! **

**Wow, I just realized that the acronym for this fanfic is TIE. How cool.**

**Maestro out~**


	2. The Ex-Armor's New Gig

I was going to write and illustrate Fullmetal Alchemist, but everything changed when the fire nation attacked. By that time Hiromu Arakawa had beat me to it.

Chapter 2

Alphonse Elric hadn't contacted his brother in ages. He'd meant to, really, and almost did a number of times, but… how could he, while he was doing _this_?

Focused intensely on his target, Al silently pressed his palms together. Clapping was rather counter-productive in this business, since it alerted the enemy (plus, it was completely unnecessary to make any noise while transmuting). Also, Alphonse thought it looked rather stupid, and one thing the man had come to hate since leaving his brother was looking stupid.

The small needle he'd transmuted from the dirt wasn't dangerous normally, but in the hands of an assassin it was a lethal weapon. He threw it with pinpoint accuracy, and it buried itself in the victim's shoulder- Alphonse knew it hit a nerve that marked a vital pressure point. His target would be dead within the next ten minutes.

He had to leave quickly. When working a job like this one, hiding up in the rafters of a large room, it was hard to escape. Al had to climb, flip and swing across the bars to the skylights that lined the top of the walls, transmute a blade to cut the glass, climb through, and hop across a few roofs before he found a suitable place to climb back down. Then he walked out of the dark side alley and into the hustling crowd of the marketplace like he hadn't just killed somebody.

Alphonse wasn't the perfect assassin at first, and he still wasn't. A job like this is very hard to do correctly. Frankly, he hadn't _wanted _to do it correctly, and with good reason. He had first become involved in Amestris' underworld when Ling, the emperor of the neighboring country of Xing and an old friend, had offered to pay him to get his hands on some weapons being produced in Amestris. Illegal weapons. Of course, the weapons weren't illegal in Xing, seeing as the emperor himself was asking for them, but they were very, _very_ illegal in Amestris. Alphonse was hesitant at first. But would the military really care so much, would they even _notice_, if he stole a few weapons that were illegally forged by some shady individuals? No.

And they didn't. It was almost too easy for Al to sneak into this huge warehouse filled to the brim with those things, bag a few, and deliver them to Ling. Actually, it _was_ too easy. Soon Alphonse started taking more and more jobs like that. First from some of Ling's friends (most of that was just taking things from Amestris and getting it back to Xing), then from more people who had heard about him by word of mouth. Soon he was well-known for getting jobs done efficiently and effectively. He'd been conditioning and training with his alchemy for the past few years, since he would sometimes face a little trouble while traveling, so this kind of stuff was basically like polishing his skills for free. Most of the people who he stole from or ended up harming at all were bad people anyways.

Ha. How hypocritical of him. Now he himself was a 'bad person.' Fight fire with fire, though, right?

His gigs quickly escalated from things like stealing drugs or destroying pieces of evidence to injuring people and eventually… well, you know the rest. So now Alphonse Elric, sweet, kind Alphonse, who loved cats and sweets and his brother and May Chang, was an assassin. Not a cold-hearted one, by any means, since he always made an effort to kill his victims quickly and mercifully, and never accepted jobs to kill people in the military or people who he thought really shouldn't die. But he was definitely an assassin. He learned the tricks of the trade from fellow assassins (they made sure to stick together, and never accepted jobs to kill other assassins, since that made it easier for all of them). He was a quick study, too, and had assassination down to a science in no time.

And here he was, sneaking around and killing people, taking advance payments and then payment in arrears, just like some kind of landscaper. And, God-that-he-didn't-believe-in, Alphonse was _bored out of his mind!_ It was fun the first few runs, because he felt like some kind of ninja kitty, sneaking around and then leaping on his prey. But then it just got tedious. Horribly tedious, because it was the same damn thing every time.

Apparently, the God-that-he-didn't-believe-in was hearing his pleas, because the second he walked out of that dark side alley, things got a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

Edward Elric hadn't felt this excited in a long time. Admittedly, that wasn't surprising, considering he'd been playing housewife for the last few years, but nonetheless, he was getting out of shape. He needed this. Badly.

Now, don't get me wrong, Edward was far from rusty. After all, both brothers had discovered that travel could be very dangerous. Without his alchemy as a weapon he'd needed to find a new way to fight, and fast. An acclaimed blacksmith who happened to be a friend of a friend suggested he use some sort of short blade, since he had been known for transmuting a blade onto his automail arm. He even volunteered to make him some for a huge discount. Edward had accepted his offer graciously, and decided to get a pair of daggers. After all, two is better than one. They were very pretty little weapons, with obsidian hilts and sterling blades. After a bit of practice, he could wield the daggers similarly to the way he used to with his arm. But he wanted a bit _more_ than that.

After more practice (much more, mind you, but Ed happened to get a lot of free time as a 'housewife'), he practically developed his own fighting style. He could twirl the knives around with ease, in such a way that made the kids gaze on in awe and Winry fear for her life. But even his cautious wife had to admit: Edward was _good_. He didn't just juggle the pretty little daggers because he wanted to, oh no, it was all a part of his battle technique. Being able to switch the knives from hand to hand at his leisure made things a lot easier. They went where he wanted them to. An attack from above? A quick flip and kick of a dagger could fix that. An enemy sneaking up behind? He could throw the weapons over his shoulders if he wanted to, and they would end up right back in his hands. Nobody could figure out how he did it, but the one thing they knew for sure was that it looked _badass_. And Ed loved looking badass.

But looking badass was surprisingly difficult when you were a jobless stay-at-home dad, and Ed had missed the respect he got as part of the military.

"M-Major Elric, sir, I didn't know you would be on this case!"

"Look, it's Edward Elric… wow, he's so cool."

"Wasn't he the guy who, like, saved everything?"

It was _great_. The respect also made his job much easier. That, and the lack of short jokes.

"The crime scene is over here, Major Elric," Mustang reminded him impatiently.

Ed groaned. The only drawback to all this was Mustang, who decided that tagging along would be a "good idea," so he could "evaluate his skills on his first mission."

He mumbled, "Yeah, yeah," even though he was actually to distracted to even hear what Mustang had said.

"Edward," he heard Mustang say. He sounded pissed. Ed looked at him, his expression a mixture of annoyance and confusion. The man never called him by his first name. "You seem to be forgetting one very important thing: I am your superior. If I say that this is not a game, it's _not a game_. You got away with a lot when you were a kid, and I get that you were going through some very hard times then, and I am grateful that you saved us." At that, he smiled ever so slightly. "Really. I am." His smiled dropped away as he continued, "But you have to understand, you are a soldier now, and no matter how much people look up to you, my rank is higher than yours. That means that you listen, you salute, and you obey. Got that?"

Ed hated being looked down upon, especially since he had been so much as a child. Somehow, though, he got the feeling that was not what was happening. Mustang was trying to help him. As reluctant as Edward was to admit it, he was grateful. This is why, instead of complaining as General Mustang had expected, Ed saluted. "Yes, sir."

Slightly surprised, but relieved nonetheless (though he wouldn't show it), Mustang replied, "Much better. Now follow me."

They made their way into the large building. It was an art gallery, a big single-roomed one. Paintings and photographs lined the walls, and sculptures dotted the cement floor. The middle of the room was sectioned off with tape.

The pair ducked under it and surveyed the scene. It was swarming with officers, who parted to let them through. Smack dab in the middle of the crime scene was a man who seemed decisively dead. He lay crumpled on the floor, in an awkward position that living people would find immensely painful, and his skin was a chalky white. As Ed stared at the body, he realized something: there was no injury to be seen.

"Poisoning?" he asked the General.

Mustang frowned. "That's what I thought at first, too, but tests for poison are coming out clean. We have yet to run a full check on the body, but his clothes are undamaged and any skin uncovered isn't pierced. It's quite a dilemma."

"How many of these killings has there been, now?"

"This is the eleventh."

"And all of them are just… _dead_, huh? How do you suppose this happened?"

"Ah," said Ed's commanding officer with a smirk, "Now that's your job."

"W-what?" Edward cried, confused. "You mean, all on my own?"

"You got it."

"I'm not some… some _detective_, it's just like you said, I'm a soldier! I fight! You know, slash-slash, bang-bang?"

"Yes, and in the past, that's all I've known you to do. This isn't as much of a mission as it is a test. Use your head, Ed. Ha, that rhymed! Head, Ed!"

Major Elric groaned. This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Alphonse felt a firm hand grip his shoulder. Calmly, he turned around.

Backlit by the light outside the alley, the man in front of him looked intimidating. He had shaggy black hair, an angular face and a five o'clock shadow. His eyes were sharp with intelligence. The clothes he wore were modest: a sky-blue waistcoat over a black button-up shirt, with baggy cobalt cargo pants. The man wasn't big, but he certainly wasn't small. Alphonse could tell that he had muscles under those peasant clothes. He could be considered handsome, in an gruff way.

"I have a proposition for you," the man said. His voice was low and smooth like chocolate, far from slimy or deceiving as the assassin had expected.

Alphonse had better things to do than talk to some man who was probably trying to con him. He smiled politely. "I'm not interested."

"Let me rephrase that," he said evenly. In a flash, Al's arms were pinned behind his back, and a hand was over his mouth. "I need you to come with me."

Alphonse was a trained fighter, and this guy was not going to beat him that easily. He had bent his fingers just as his wrists were grabbed, so loosening his grip was easy. Al slid out of the grasp, bit the man's hand savagely to free his mouth and whipped around. Now facing his attacker, he pulled some needles out of his pockets and had them securely between his fingers and at the man's neck in less than a second. His expression remained calm.

The assassin was confused as to why the man didn't even flinch. Instead, he began to _chuckle_. It was a genial chuckle, not evil in the slightest; the kind that made you immediately trust someone. "You're just as good as they say, Golden Assassin."

Alphonse was surprised that this man knew him, but he wasn't going to let that show. He simply concealed his weapons and noted, "You know me."

"I do. I mean, what assassin hasn't heard of you?"

Ah, so this was an assassin. He should have guessed sooner. But in all honesty, assassins needed to disguise themselves within society. Nobody could know that they were professional killers, obviously. "Of course."

"A man of few words, huh?" He chuckled again. "I'm Nico." An alias, obviously, but Alphonse appreciated that he was being courteous.

"Nice to meet you." Alphonse smiled again, sincerely this time. They didn't shake hands, of course. Assassins weren't that trustworthy. "So, what is it?"

"Didn't I already tell you? I need you to come with me."

Al looked at him, his eyes narrowed. "So you were serious."

"I'm always serious, Alphonse Elric," Nico said evenly, casually sliding a hand out of his pocket.

Alphonse spotted the dull gleam of a knife. He laughed. "You really think you can threaten me with that?"

"Maybe I can," said Nico. And he vanished. He wasn't gone for long. It was the same trick he'd used before, but this time, he appeared underneath Al. Before Nico's enemy knew what was going on, his legs were tied together with… something. Then the man was behind him, too, binding his arms to his torso with lightning speed.

Al should have transmuted the bonds off, but even if he could clap his hands in this position, he had no idea what they were made of. Without knowledge of what a material is, an alchemist cannot transmute.

It may have been against Alphonse's will, but things were certainly about to get a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

**A/N: First off, don't try that needle trick from the beginning of the chapter at home, kids. It could be dangerous. But you would also probably get laughed at because it wouldn't work.**

**Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! You don't know how much they mean to me! They are my writing fuel, and the more of them I get, the easier it is to write. And now I've decided to use that whole "first words of the first sentence of each section will be the POV" idea. I think it blends in nicely with the story, and reads a lot nicer than just saying "[insert name here]'s POV" before each part.**

**AND I CHANGED THE TITLE OF THE STORY SO YEAH HAVE FUN WITH THAT. It used to be The Ignorance of Elrics, but frankly I like Beloved Foe a lot better.**

**So I don't know about you, but I totally think Ling and that guy in Black Butler (the Chinese opium-trading guy with the big-boobed girl… what was his name?) are totally similar in some ways. Aren't they both played the the same English dub actor? I dunno. Anyway, that's why I decided to have Ling askin' for some illegal stuffs. YUP.**

**ALSO, beware of OCs! They probably won't become too central to the story (except for maybe Nicholas, who is close to my heart because he's based off of Nico for **_**A Cat in Paris**_**, which you should watch if you haven't already). SPEAKING OF HIM, I'm basing the whole "can't transmute without knowledge" thing off the scene where Ed can't hurt Greed until he figures out he's made of carbon. Got it? Good.**

**Consider this your warning for completely weird and random author's notes. I apologize in advance. I just write whatever I was thinking about pertaining to the chapter.**


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